


Leader

by Starinlight



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Angst, But I Just Love Him So Much, Friendship, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I Should Stop Hurting My Baby, Kidnapping, Memory Loss, OT9 - Freeform, if that makes sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 23:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6879925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starinlight/pseuds/Starinlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When EXO's leader and guardian, Kim Junmyeon, disappears, the remaining members must learn how to survive without him; all while realizing his true value, and praying for his return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before

Most days are good days.

 

Junmyeon wakes with the first rays of sun passing through the binds of his window, Sehun’s soft snores the only sound on the room but the rustle of covers as he propels his legs outside the bed, warm feet touching the cold floor. He yawns, leaning backwards to crack his back, rotating his shoulder next, lightly sore from having slept on top of his arm. Despite the ache, Junmyeon’s body feels unexpectedly well rested, the four hours or so of sleep more fulfilling than in some time; the same can’t be said to his head, which passed the point of being revitalized by sleep too long ago for him to remember a time where it didn’t throbbed constantly, an ever present company behind his eyes or high on his forehead. A pain he learned to control and value, his everyday reminder of everything he accomplished after giving his all, body, tears and blood alike.

 

The bathroom is empty thanks to the early hour, all boys deeply asleep, greedily relishing the few minutes left before their day officially begins. Junmyeon strips to his boxers and climbs on top of the balance, sucking in a breath as the numbers shift to show his weight; he releases it when they stop on a satisfactory number, one kilo less than the last time, two days previously. A bright smile illuminates his features as a sense of pride for himself fills his insides, and he happily brushes his teeth, looking at his reflection on the mirror. He stares a face flushed with satisfaction, unblemished by pimples and with features handsome in their own way, common in their shapes but good together. He smiles again and spits the foamy substance on the sink.

 

Back to his room, Junmyeon hums happily – Sehun won’t wake up with such a measly sound, dead to the world – changing into his gym clothes. He picks his bag, a water bottle and his phone, kissing the mop of Sehun’s black hair affectionately, whispering his departure gently on deaf ears. He leaves the dorm 5:30 sharp, jogging all the way to the gym, saying dozens of ‘hellos’ to both men and women opening their businesses, and the eventual jogger passing next to him. The moment he arrives at the gym, forty minutes into the day, he texts Kyungsoo knowing the message will wake him up; in it, he reminds him to give Baekhyun his vitamins and not let Jongin eat the leftover chicken gone bad, also aware the two are more likely to obey Satansoo than himself. For the next minutes, Junmyeon sends similar texts to all members; a print of their schedules attached to reminders to eat properly before going on each of them. He calls his manager and agrees with the sleepy man a time to be picked up.

 

With Donghae in the army, working out is a dull affair, no one using the space so early in the morning, leaving Junmyeon alone; he uses the solitude as an opportunity to train his lines on EXO’s approaching comeback, trying to steady his voice with the strain of pushing weights around. He has more parts, and even two high notes, which can only mean he’s been improving, all the midnight sessions with a vocal trainer compensating his lack of sleep. His shoulder protests the exertion, soreness becoming a sharp pain, and Junmyeon is obliged to work his legs more, not wanting to force a more serious injury upon his body. Packed schedules don’t give him the breach for such.

 

Two hours later he’s finished, body sweaty and tingling with the familiar pain of too much physical effort; the constant ache of his head growing into a ponding migraine, light hurting his eyes and the instrumental of one of EXO’s new songs aiding the rhythmical _thud_ inside his skull, it so strong he has to stop the music on his headphone and close his eyes, breathing deeply through his mouth to concentrate on what he should do next. Deciding a shower it’s the best course of action for now, he goes to the locker room, meeting some of the gym’s clients, finally filling the place. Junmyeon scrubs his skin, frowning when he doesn’t feel clean afterwards; he scrubs harder, harder, until his pale skin is red, the feeling of dirtiness gone and gratification at it making Junmyeon’s lips pull upwards. He dresses with clothes he kept on his bag and exits the building, waiting for the car with his manager.

 

Checking his messages while humming, he sees the monosyllabic answer from Kyungsoo, an excited – Junmyeon assumes it’s excited based on the person sending it and the several emojis – good morning from Minho and an actual conversation on the group he’s in with BTS’ V, VIXX’s Hongbin and B1A4’s Gongchan, the three having had an argument about hair dye and different types of sauce. There’s also a text from Jisoo, telling a joke that cracks Junmyeon up, soft giggles tumbling past his lips. Silly Jisoo. He texts back something equally hilarious that probably would make EXO’s other members roll their eyes, fully aware the actor will laugh. Speaking of his boys, he texts them again, reminders to eat lunch and not exaggerate – he sends that particular text to Jongin and his healing leg – with… anything, really.

 

The manager assigned to accompany him barely waits for him to enter the car before shoving a thick stack of papers on top of his lap, grumbling a greeting in the midst of complains about schedules and unorganized boys who can’t keep up with their own time; Junmyeon sighs amusedly at the man, looking down to analyze the papers. They’re the band’s agenda for the next week, together and individually; seeing his members’ names on so many different and independent programs brings warm emotions to his chest: the pride, the trust, the love. They go from dramas to movies, solo singles to duets, tightly wrapped around every tiny bit of space in between the shows and preparation for a comeback. As if to prove his point, Junmyeon’s head gives a particularly painful throb, not nearly enough to make his bright mood to dampen. He is too happy for his beloved boys – and for his own person, owner of a packed individual schedule – to care about pain.

 

Spending the ride to the set for How Are You Bread reading through the schedules, memorizing and arranging it – moving dates and hours, calling directors and coordi-noonas to shorten some member need to be on set, negotiating brief intervals of free time, reserving a dance studio, trying to sneak free hours to rest, confirming a photoshoot or an appearance at some event, some TV show – Junmyeon has, by the time he’s there, most of his work – and his manager’s – ready, years of practice showing on his practical quickness. He succeeded in making a two-hour break in the morning for Sehun three days from now, so he can sleep more; he contacted the nonna responsible to order food for Jongin’s web-drama filming site and kindly asked her to buy chicken the next time and called Minseok’s personal trainer to warn him of the oldest recent leg cramps, instructing the man to not work the limbs too hard.

 

Junmyeon laughs on set, enjoying the good humor of his love interest – she’s cute, but not exactly his type; he likes his girls and _boys_ fierce – and the secondary actors; at himself too, who definitely doesn’t have the talent for anything evolving the kitchen, needing to do the scenes which requires him pretending to bake two, three times, flour settling on places of his body he judged impossible. Being Junmyeon, he concentrates on his job, and soaks the praises the make-up artists, stylists and hairstylists coo at him like a sponge in between acts. The carnival on his head returns to the pounding he’s used to, easy to ignore. At one moment he considers accepting more of the acting request he’s being offered recently, given the tingling on the pit of his stomach, a sensation he feels every time he sees a complete scene with him on it, giving his all.

 

He loves the set; loves the lights focused on him, the cameras filming his transformation from Junmyeon – he’s just Junmyeon there, an aspiring actor, and not Suho, EXO’s leader – to whatever character he’s currently playing. But he loves the stage more, where he can shine together with the ones he loves the most, can sing his heart out and entertain his fans with his dance. His dream was, at sixteen, to become an idol, and now, more than ten years later, four into his career, this dream remains the same, with few changes. He would never give up everything he conquered to act, as in love with the art as he is. First and foremost, he’s EXO’s leader, EXO-L’s Suho.

 

The sun is setting on the horizon by the time he’s done… with filming. His manager – the man, despite only two years older than Junmyeon, looks exhausted and is graying on the sides – offers him a plastic bag with takeout food; an early dinner from his favorite vegetarian place, so he won’t slack off of his diet, before driving to the studio where the others members arrive one by one, to practice their choreography. Jongdae, Chanyeol and Minseok are there waiting, with the youngest fiddling on his phone while the other two chat, bodies touching and secretive smiles. They don’t acknowledge him initially, busy in their own world; Baekhyun’s loud voice when he enters the place snapping them out of it.

 

After the Beagle Line’s oldest, everyone appears, one after the other: Kyungsoo with a scowl and askew glasses, Jongin and Sehun discussing some new game. For a moment Junmyeon almost announces Yixing’s lateness, simply to remember the younger is far away from him, filming on China. A wave of longing for the absentminded unicorn weights his heart, and he whispers a prayer for Yixing’s safety and health, hoping he takes care of himself as well as Junmyeon thinks he does.

 

Jongin usually leads the group through the choreography, the natural, most experienced dancer he is, despite not completely healed from the injury on his leg; Junmyeon will gently scold him later, for his absence of caution. Minseok and Sehun catch him instantly, the Beagle Line behind with small slips and his and Kyunsoo’s stiffness. One time quickly transforms into five. Five is ten twenty minutes later. Ten becomes thirty before a half an hour break. Idle chatter, bottles of water and even a nap – on Chanyeol’s part – later they start again. The second youngest is ruthless and bordering maniac with his perfectionism, hierarchy forgotten in favor of reprimanding sloppiness and complaints; Junmyeon the target of some, which he accepts gladly, knowing he’ll get better if following Jongin’s lead.

 

He sighs contently when they reach the fifty mark, meaning that for today, they’re over. It’s past midnight when everyone piles up in the van designed to take them back to their dorm, eight sweaty men complaining about each other’s stench and one manager – different from the one who accompanied Junmyeon earlier – complaining about having to handle eight smelling young adults at once. They barely manage to pass the door to the dorm before Jongdae yells – his lugs working just well – that he’s the first to shower; this rouses the other boys, who all start a mad dash towards the place.

 

Today the winner is Minseok – oldest or not, he’s not above fighting for hot water – the sneaky hyung. Jongdae grumpily is the second, and Jongin the third. Chanyeol has to physically tackle Sehun, but both lose their opportunity to Baekhyun, that with a wink locks the bathroom’s door behind him. No one dares to question Kyungsoo when he throws a glare to them, leaving Junmyeon to finish heating up a very light one-in-the-morning dinner. Chanyeol finally enters the bathroom after Kyungsoo, leaving only Sehun and Junmyeon to shower. The older knows he has no chance when the youngest, his baby, looks at him with a pout placed on the normally blank face, and exhaling loudly, he lets Sehun go before him. He watches fondly the smile Sehun graces him, and ignores the food to eat fruit, still sticking to his diet.

 

The water is mostly cold by the time he goes shower, but the effect on his skin is most welcome after having the hot sweat dry on it, and Junmyeon showers as efficiently as he does everything else. He dresses in sweatpants and a shirt that belonged to Jongin or Chanyeol at some point, and ushers everyone to their rooms. He leaves a glass of water on Minseok’s nightstand – the oldest awakes often, thirsty – and prepares milk with honey for Baekhyun and Jongdae – they have singing lessons tomorrow morning, and songs to practice. He helps Kyungsoo with the kitchen, drying and storing the dishes he washes. Is hard to take Chanyeol out of his laptop, the boy immersed in a song he’s been composing; he goes when Junmyeon closes the lid and kisses his forehead, whispering a reproach to the skin. He dries Jongin’s hair with a fluffy towel, complaining with the boy that he shouldn’t have washed his hair so late. Junmyeon normally doesn’t have to tell Sehun to go to bed, instead, his duty is to cover the maknae with his duvet and stroke his hair until he’s asleep, like a child.

 

Junmyeon lies on his bed, curls up on one side and closes his eyes, letting all the exhaustion hold on to his body. The heaviness of his limbs is good, as is the happiness he feels for the life he possesses.

 

Tomorrow is a new day, where he’ll do everything again. He’ll go to gym, film, arrange everybody’s schedules, train – be it dances, vocals or languages – and take care of every necessity one of his boys may have. He’ll do better and grow, shine like the stars in the sky and spread the love that sometimes feels too much on his chest. Junmyeon will continue to stride along the path he chose for himself, and smile with every step.

 

 

.

 

 

In counterpart, there are bad days.

 

He doesn’t have them that much anymore, not like he had on the beginning, the word ‘leader’ weird on his tongue and heavy on his shoulders. But, as everything that is bad, they never truly go away.

 

For a start, Junmyeon wakes with more than just a pounding headache and a sore body part. No, he wakes to the revolting feeling of nausea turning around on his stomach and a migraine searing enough to turn his eyes instinctively away from the slightly open window, the sun already making itself present. For it meant he had overslept, and is currently late for his usual schedule; no gym today, as it seems. He tries to get up, only for him wish he could rip his head off of his shoulders, so it would _just stop throbbing._ Junmyeon envies Sehun, who on the bed by his side, still sleeps like the dead, undisturbed by light or noise.

 

And speaking of noise, there is the faint sound of plates rattling reaching his sensitive ears – making the soft sound look like a damn procession with complete orchestra on his battered head – past the door. He’s later than he ever should, someone up earlier than him on a normal day; Kyungsoo sometimes is the only one who does that, but the boy is silent as a ghost, practically cooking without the hassle that the others inevitably cause. So, deciding that his pain won’t go away with him waiting, Junmyeon leaves the bed, passing by scattered clothes and action-figures on the floor, the promise he made one week ago to organize his and Sehun’s room forgotten as soon as it was made.

 

Like he expected, Kyungsoo is indeed up and cooking silently; Minseok too, sitting on the table with a cup of tea and phone in hand – Junmyeon bites his tongue to stop warning the boy about too much technology so soon in the morning, especially since Minseok has delicate eyes – scrolling through what would probably be the news. The third part of the alert group that confirms Junmyeon lateness: Jongdae, half-asleep, searching for something on the cupboards and failing miserably. Junmyeon helps him with that, gently caressing the other’s bed-hair and guiding him to the table, promising to find his chocolate cereal; he’s not supposed to eat it, but it won’t hurt one single time. His whole body thrums with pain when he stretches to reach the box, and black spots shine on his eyesight.

 

His manager is aware of his lateness alright, calling him nonstop, exigent messages questioning his whereabouts; the bright screen light sickening him further, the pain almost unbearable. Junmyeon sneakily takes some medicine for it, masking the pills as one of the several vitamins he takes, to evade curious stares or worried phrases. His boys have too much to worry without having him to bother them because of some pain. He can’t eat with the twisting of his stomach, and nibbles his rice plate, mixing it to look consumed. Kyungsoo is nothing short of a mother-hen where food is concerned.

 

Since he lost his hour, Junmyeon uses what time he has to wake the sleeping members; he breathes into Baekhyun’s ears the promise of breakfast, shakes a stubborn Chanyeol until the boy grumbles and stumbles to the bathroom, softly caresses Jongin’s hair, holding a glass of water for his dry lips and kicks – lovingly – the duvet off of Sehun. He waits for everyone to use the bathroom before going. He strips and climbs on top of the balance. The numbers shift and shift and shift until they pause, Junmyeon losing his breath in the meantime; they pause on a number that suddenly is his most hated one. Cursing, he braces the wall as a wave of overwhelming nausea takes his senses, and he reaches the toilet seconds before throwing up. When he finishes, he’s pale and ugly – his skin seems to glow with grease, fat clinging to it and disheveled hair pointing to all directions – and in serious need for a bath. No those quick, five to ten minutes showers, but a proper bath, inside a bathtub, surrounded by bubbles and sweet-smelling soap, no one knocking on the door to make him hurry.

 

Like the wave of nausea, another one, now of annoyance, takes his body; annoyance at his band-members, who depend so much of him to chew things for them. Junmyeon arranges their schedules, twists and turns to make free time, indulgences them in more ways he can count, from a night out to eat on his account to more time to sleep and yet, what they do for him? Complain about his overzealousness and don’t give the time of day to him, don’t ask if he needs something and ignore him when he attempts to tell a joke, the brats (and Minseok). What they want more? Junmyeon loves them so much it hurts, so maybe they want him to rip his heart out and offer it to them.

 

Someone knocks on the door, before Jongin’s face pops up, dark circles underneath his eyes from too little sleep, and his brows are furrowed. He asks Junmyeon if the leader is okay – Junmyeon wants to say that no, he’s not okay, not with his head threatening to burst at any given moment – and that one – they have ten – manager will be passing by in fifteen to pick them up for a photoshoot. Nodding in recognition, he whispers that yeah, he’s okay, only with a bit of a headache. The frown on Jongin’s forehead deepens, and he asks if Junmyeon needs medicine, maybe tea to soothe his ache. Dismissing the idea, Junmyeon smiles – more like grimaces – and sighs, the dancer blinking in comprehension; he exits and the leader goes to take his shower.

 

Photoshoots with EXO are always one of a kind experience, first because they’re eight – his chest hurts with the absence of Yixing, and a deep buried longing for another three long gone boys hovers on the depths of his psyche – young adults with way too much stamina, rowdy and exceptionally handsome. Even in normal clothes – not those weird, high class things they sometimes wore – there’s no denying Sehun’s model-like stance or Baekhyun’s effortless charisma, the mischievous kittenish curve of Jongdae’s lips or Jongin’s devastating appeal, Chanyeol’s boy-next-door enchant or Kyungsoo’s clueless cuteness and the way Minseok had only to smirk and lift an eyebrow to make everyone on set blush scarlet. Junmyeon is not like them, his face liking to contort strangely– he uses this ability of sorts a lot in fanservice – if careless; the photographer takes two times longer to place him on a satisfactory position. The overly bright lighting is hell on his head, his eyes hurting and burning with the sheer effort of maintaining them open. He ignores the bottle of water Minseok offers him, and shakes off the hand Kyungsoo puts on his shoulder.

 

They split after the shooting, again with individual schedules. Junmyeon goes with Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, Jongdae and Minseok on one van heading for their vocal training. Jongdae naps on his lap, and while he strokes the soft hair, his own head finds the juncture between Baekhyun’s neck and shoulder, the younger’s famous fingers playing with the hairs on his nape soothingly. He closes his eyes to enjoy the fleeting peacefulness, trying to rest his head, see if the blinding pain diminishes. It works to some extent, and they arrive at their destination far quicker than he would prefer. He bids the boys a ‘see you on dinner’, ruffling Baekhyun’s hair and earning a smack on the bum by Jongdae, a wave from Minseok and Kyungsoo.

 

His vocal coach is a woman in her mid-fifties with no love for anything alive, and she screeches at him when his voice breaks on the high notes – he can’t tell her the sound of his own voice hurts his head, and that he wishes to cry, weep, because it’s _so painful –_ ordering to do it again. And again. And again. And again, and again, and again. The corners of his eyesight are white and the world spins, beautiful colors swirling and mixing, intertwining in a kaleidoscope of reds and blues, greens and purples. Junmyeon doesn’t realize he blacked out for a second until the woman screeches again, her harpy-like voice sending his head into new depths of pain, and his voice cracks, not on a high note, but on one so common he feels embarrassed. She sneers at him after the mistake, and sends him home, promising to report his poor performance to Lee Sooman and the compositor responsible for dividing EXO’s lines.

 

Junmyeon does his best to ignore the echo of Baekhyun’s angelic voice and Jongdae’s powerful high note, striding along the interminable hallway with wobbly legs. He sits on the canteen and buys those horrible, black coffees, sipping slowly, waiting for the others to be over; he picks his phone and checks the tomorrow agenda for the band, cursing almost immediately later. Someone – maybe a manager, maybe him – made a glaring mistake, juxtaposing Jongdae’s and Kyungsoo’s individual schedules with EXO’s. It’s a mistake so ridiculous to happen and yet, it’s impossible to be rectified in time; the staff of both parts would try to rip his head off – right now, he would be grateful if they did so – for attempting to cancel. Hell, what was he supposed to do?

 

Apologizing quietly under his breath, Junmyeon starts to make calls; he contacts Sehun’s filming site and explain to them the boy will be one hour late, expressing his regret for the tight situation and promising things like these will not happen again, he does the same for Jongdae’s recording program. Then, he calls the photographer’s studio, arranging a double set – he already ringed three different staff members, one make-up artist and one hairstylist – so both boys can take their pictures at the same time, reassuring the woman about bringing a spare photographer to the photoshooting, saying the company would pay for one of her trust. Each call takes from half an hour to an hour and a half.

 

Tears prickle at his eyes, and he hides his face on his forearms, transparent droplets falling from them as he cries, from frustration and pain. Somehow his hands find the way to his hair, and he tugs at it, some hairs ripping. The added ache does nothing to distract him or really make things worse, and Junmyeon desires for peace; a big, warm bed with silky sheets and a hot meal with no control of how many consumed calories, maybe a body to cuddle with, no lust involved, merely the feeling of security and companionship being more than enough.

 

He remains silent the rest of the day, not joking or fussing over the boys, smiling meekly when his attention was needed. Junmyeon is the first to shower – he doesn’t see the worried exchange of glances behind him – and the first to go to bed, not doing his normal routine of nagging and coddling the youngers, and oldest. He makes one last call for the day, sighing relieved when Yixing’s soft and dreamy voice answers. They talk quietly, Junmyeon’s blasting headache subsiding to a bearable level, and he suddenly feels sleepy, eyes dropping as he whispers a goodbye to his chinese boy, falling asleep subsequently.

 

 

.

 

 

There are good days, and bad day. Finally, there’s the insupportable days, those far in between, but existent. Days in which Junmyeon doesn’t feel anything, and that’s worse than feeling too much. At least, on days where he’s filled with negative emotions, Junmyeon can cry by himself, and on most of his happiness filled days, he can enjoy every minute of the blessing he lives in.

 

To not feel anything is like being dead; he works mechanically, dull brown eyes staring at the nothing – he’s not thinking either – with no discernible emotion on them, and answers halfheartedly to questions, his attention span inexistent. Those days he can recognize only the crushing emptiness, the lack of motives to continue with what he’s been doing, why he keeps on this life; it’s a black hole, engulfing him in darkness and dullness, the blankness of a corpse. His limbs are heavy and his mind clogged with a dense fog, and when he grabs his coat to go out, he doesn’t listen to the many questions – Jongdae’s high voice, Jongin’s slightly sleepy and Chanyeol’s deep one, or Minseok’s worried tone, Baekhyun’s semi-shouts, Kyungsoo and Sehun’s preoccupied glances – about his whereabouts.

 

Pain is nonexistent, as is tiredness or happiness. The world assumes the monochrome shades of black and white, gray mingling in the contrasting colors. Every sound is accompanied by static, vibrating on his ears. His hands lay limply on his sides, shoulders slumped and head bowed, fogged eyes following the dragging of his feet, slow and deliberate; for once in weeks, months, years not rushing to meet its objective, clear and yet uncertain.

 

He walks to the Han River, his favorite hanging place a long time ago, before he lost sight of what having time meant, the cold air blowing his hair to all directions and sending chills down his spine, a reaction his body processes, but that stays away from his mind. His clothes aren’t the best to be out on this climate and again, he can’t comprehend the fact. His feet make the path for him, and he stops near a bridge, his legs giving out seconds later, so he falls on grass trail, a few stray rocks scrapping his lightly covered calves.

 

Junmyeon look across the river, Seoul’s lights bright and ever present, day inside the night; the rumble of cars and the eventual smell of food would normally cause an overly sensitive person to feel overwhelmed. To him, it’s all background noise, a buzz on the behind of his skull, barely there. His cellphone lights up constantly, incoming messages and calls arriving and ending – if he was on a good day, he could bet the calls coming from Kyungsoo – without causing a rouse out of him, too immersed in the _void, all-consuming and pitch black – white and empty – void._

 

“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” a voice, feminine and ethereal sounds next him, and Junmyeon blinks owlishly, fog dissipating only enough for him to identify a girl sitting by his side, hugging her knees close to her chest.

 

He can’t pinpoint – not that he cares; he can’t feel energy inside him to _feel –_ her appearance precisely; her profile is elongated, a straight nose and thick eyelashes half-covering what seems to be light eyes, a halo of dark hair blowing with the wind. He blinks and her hair looks shorter and curlier, eyes as dark as the river beneath them, cheeks chubbier. He blinks once again and her hair is long again, still curly, and her nose appears lightly crooked, upper-lip pushier than the bottom and skin a tan hue, exotic.

 

“You don’t think?” she asks, turning to him – her lips now are push, symmetrical – with her doll-like eyes “I particularly like the moon, today is really bright”

 

Junmyeon looks up, now seeing the enormous moon illuminating the sky; he wishes in a whim someone could be like the moon to him; brightening his days, rotating around him with no request, loving him silently and offer him support without later charging for it. A bit more of the fod raises, and he’s more conscious than in the entire day. “Yes… It’s beautiful”

 

“Glad you think so, mister! You see, I’ve been looking for someone to acknowledge it, but people these days just don’t have time” she sighs – through a high nose – and narrows her eyes – brown? almond? black? – towards him “You seem tired mister. Tired and sad– Maybe you don’t have time too?”

 

“Time is a blessing I don’t have”

 

She clearly deflates and in a second, turns sharply to him, her – voluminous, curly – hair bouncing in front of her face, two rows of straight teeth visible in a joker smile, curling at the edges “Would you like to have time, mister Suho?”

 

Had Junmyeon been more attentive to the girl, he would notice the name – his name, his public face – she wore to refer him; his mind may have cleared a little, not nearly sufficient for him to be alert, conscientious to see she knew him from somewhere. He however is not aware, the black hole – the white emptiness – swallowing him deeper and faster, the clarity from earlier disappearing just as quickly as it came. His numb fingers grasped at the grass beneath them, fingers dirtying with earth, damp and dark.

 

“Time? I–“ he pauses, breathing in the scent of wet soil, the promise of rain “I want it”

 

The smile she direct at him is wolfish – canines long and sharp, lips thin, face canine – and blinding. She moves towards him, predatory.

 

Darkness engulfs Junmyeon, and he blessedly goes to sleep.

.

.

.

* * *

 


	2. During

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junmyeon's gone. What now?

Sehun glares at his phone’s screen, the electronic voice echoing in the room for the eleventh time, ‘My lovely Suho-hyung’ written on it. By his side, Jongin groans in frustration, hand running through his hair, messing it even further – from another times doing the same – and Baekhyun sighs, mostly exasperated. The three have been trying to contact Junmyeon for the past two hours – he’s out for six –, their calls falling into electronic secretary after ringing for what felt like too long; he’s not one to ignore calls, not on normal days, not on days where he needed space, and maybe that is the reason why Sehun feels so anxious, unreasonably worried for the older. He himself is one to vanish for hours without notice – sometimes he just wants to be irresponsible, go back to the days he could come and go with no fear of prying eyes – almost killing Junmyeon over and over again. He now is ashamed by his actions; if his hyung felt a half of what he is experiencing right now, then he should apologize first thing in the morning, with Junmyeon back and safe and sound.

 

Kyungsoo orders him to call again with a blank tone, one that Sehun knows he is when stressed, his way of masking his true feelings. He is close with Junmyeon, but the other and Kyungsoo are closer friends, both coming together in their trainee period, bandage companions who licked – metaphorically – each other’s wounds, moving forward thanks to their faith and perseverance on debuting, resisting while relying on the bond formed. It’s a relationship of equality, largely different from the one he shares with Junmyeon; they are never really hyung and dongsaeng, or simply friends. True, the leader spoils him like he would a kid, a younger brother or a son, and yet, they have these subtle touches, these brushing of fingers and heated staring competitions that makes Sehun’s skin to tingle with an unknown emotion. He’s not strange to lust, to the addiction that is to desire a person, crave for their contact, but it’s so much more than that; he wants to touch, yes, and wants to be touched back, of course, but he also wishes desperately to share moments of silence and of confession, tender and warm, and is Junmyeon’s image that pops into his mind at the thought.

 

Dreading the action, he calls him once more.

 

“ _The number you called is out of reach or does not exist. Please try again later”_

 

His blood freezes. This is new; it’s not supposed to be like this. All the previous ones at least ringed before, never immediately hanging up. Had Junmyeon lost his phone? His battery ran out? ... Maybe he was mugged? God, is he okay? He always went out with his wallet on tool; a glance around the room and Sehun sees said wallet on top of the desk, a curse slipping past his lips. He’s accompanied by Chanyeol, which storms out of the living room muttering a string of obscenities, returning a few minutes later, dressed in a long coat and his bike’s keys dangling from his fingers, rattling loudly on the dead silent room. The rapper leaves the dorm, door closing with a bang. Sehun’s own legs tremble in effort of keeping unmoving; Chanyeol’s obvious idea of looking out for Junmyeon suddenly brilliant and in serious need to be put in action.

 

It seems to spur the others in actions as well; Jongdae and Minseok do that weird thing of talking with their eyes – Junmyeon can interpret them sometimes – before going to their respective rooms; Jongin is already calling a manager to try to track Junmyeon’s phone and Baekhyun calls for his immediate, closer friends – Minho, Kwanghee, Kyuhyun and that damn, annoying Jisoo, whom he loathes for being too forward, too touchy with _his_ hyung – while Kyungsoo stores the food they barely touched, going to his room right after. Sehun sees himself putting on clothes before he’s truly conscious of it, stealing constant glimpses of Junmyeon’s bed, unmade, full of papers and recently plushies given by fans.

 

He knew the moment he saw the leader today that he wasn’t well, those warm chocolate orbs of his dull and distant, body moving slowly, monosyllabic answers and shoulders curving like weighted by an invisible burden. He knew and yet said nothing, letting his hyung go through whatever plagued his mind on his own without a shoulder to lean on – he looked so small today, smaller than normally, and defeated, dead – or an ear to confide his problems. Self-loathing wells up in Sehun, angry tears burning his eyes as he leaves behind Minseok and Jongdae, the three separating soundlessly once they reach the bottom floor.

 

 _His_ Junmyeon – he always tells them they’re his boys, so it’s fair for him to belong to Sehun; only his – likes to stride by the Han River, accompanying its flow with no hurry, happily humming – most days he hums while arranging to go to the gym; he thinks Sehun’s asleep, but the youngest enjoys listening to his voice first thing in the morning, soft and slightly rough from sleep – a ballad from too many years ago or a recent song he’s particularly fond of. So it’s the Han River Sehun goes to, following its flow like the leader admitted doing long ago, when he had the time for it; he looks to both sides, seeking for the white coat Junmyeon left with, way too light for the cold night.

 

It takes a time closer to eternity for Sehun to cover some of the river’s extension, eyes rapt in attention. His throat feels dry, his head spins; where is Junmyeon? Why his hyung hasn’t showed up until now? Even if mugged – Sehun shudders at the thought, heart squeezing painfully – and without his wallet, no one would deny him help, and he could always use the public phones or the ones at convenience stores. The maknae is on the edge, the worry sickening him, stomach turning and the little he ate threatening to rush back; his hands are damp even with the chilling cold and mind haggard, messy with unresolved feelings and possibilities, not counting the biting, mocking guilt that feeds off of his self, accusing him of things that deep down he knows are true.

 

He’s negligent. He doesn’t do half of what Junmyeon has to do, accustomed with the elder’s ever willing, disposed persona that never denied him anything, if within his range of action; small but more frequent breaks, a sheet of answered questions in mandarin for practice next his things, his schedule ready on his cellphone, together with texts to eat properly, the soft, lovingly touch on his hair at night, lulling him into the deepest of sleeps and the warmth radiating from plush lips on his forehead. Sehun doesn’t do anything back: he takes and takes everything Junmyeon gives and gives for granted.

 

His feet guided him to Junmyeon’s favorite place by the river: next to a bridge, a path of fresh grass and medium rocks perfect to sit and watch the bustling city movement on the other side. Chanyeol’s bike is parked there – a spark of jealousy flares in Sehun’s heart; he wasn’t the one to know his hyung’s preferences, and the recognition of this feeling makes him even sicker, for continuing with his selfishness even in the face of such situation – and the boy is grouched on the floor, seemingly picking something. Chanyeol halts completely, before curling into himself, shoulders shaking visibly in the distance. Sehun’s heart beats erratically, and he quickens his pace, running towards the rapper, tears that swam in his eyes all the time nearly spilling, the constricting feeling of lack of air burning his lungs. It’s choking him, invisible hands crushing his neck, a foreboding on the back of his head which keeps whispering all the wrongdoings someone may have inflicted on Junmyeon. He runs and stops next Chanyeol, screaming frantic, uncoordinated questions of _where is hyung? Have you found him? He should have been here! What it is? What is wrong Chanyeol, damn it, fucking answer me!_

 

Chanyeol snaps at him, shoving a familiar cellphone on his face, a blue case with cute stickers. Junmyeon’s cellphone.

 

His tears finally fall, and his knees knock together, his whole body suddenly heavy with dread.

 

The screen is shattered, and droplets of red – _blood, oh my god, Junmyeon’s blood, his leader, friend, love’s blood –_ stain the wrecked object.

 

 

.

 

 

It’s relatively hot in Haikou, Hainan’s capital, some clouds covering a pretty blue sky, but no signal of imminent rain; the wind blows warm, and the city’s alive as ever, people accustomed with the climate, it not bothering most habitants.

 

It bothers Yixing, that stuck in a filming set, has to deal with too many big lights focused on him; the heat increases with the clothes they put him to wear, long sleeves and tight pants, along with hair falling on his forehead. In the years of being an idol, Yixing became an expert of controlling his body to not appear tired, sloppy, sick or in the case, overheating – he can mask cold as well – inside of his clothes. He smiles and makes small talk, flashing his dimples to the staff and in general being the cute unicorn people say he is. A girl follows him everywhere, appearing aware of his problem with the temperature, her small hands wiping his face every other minute, cautious to not smear his make-up.

 

Besides this, another thing keeps bothering him; an unnerving feeling, like there’s something wrong going on and he’s not conscious of it, lost in the dark when he should be cast in the light. It tingles his nape, random shivers descending down his spine; trepidation at what this can signify distracting him from his main objectives. Yixing believes to a certain extent on those sensations – like the unstoppable shivering he got one week before Yifan departure, the peaks of heat before and between Luhan’s and Zitao’s – and to be feeling them now is not a good sign. He wishes to go back to Korea to a place he calls home thanks to eight boys waiting for him anxiously; he wishes to call Junmyeon and tell him about it, the leader always insightful regarding everyone’s problems but his own, worried too much for all, never enough for himself. Mother-like, he asks about Yixing constantly, fuzzing as much as he can with them separated. _Have you eaten? Don’t you feel tired? I think you should work a little less Yixing-ah, it’s not good for your body. I talked with your manager and she told me you’re not resting enough. Should I go there and pull your ear for being so careless? The boys miss you. I miss you._

 

It’s hard to be away, living his life and seeing them live theirs without him on it. He misses Chanyeol and Jongdae and Baekhyun in their interminable energy, Sehun and Jongin playing video games loudly on the couch and Kyungsoo’s cooking; misses Minseok’s calm voice while speaking and Junmyeon’s solid presence that for many times was what made him try harder, please the leader he looked – looks – up to. Since before EXO’s debut, when everyone was still painfully awkward next each other, with few exceptions, Junmyeon had been the one to approach him in stuttering mandarin, affirming that if Yixing had a problem, he could count on him. Apparently he was pretty well known – later Yixing discovered he trained for seven years, and understood his more mature aura – inside the company, and people trusted him innumerable tasks already.

 

They aren’t the closest within the group – not even close friends – but Yixing saw it all. He saw the older boy dancing from dawn to sunset and beyond, saw him singing himself hoarse through the night and shyly asking for help with his mandarin, hugging his books close to his chest with wiry arms. He saw him struggling to create a dynamic with his band-members and be the mature one, the rock in which they could lean on; he saw Junmyeon accept the scolding with a straight face from trainers and staff, who said he should be more unyielding, more respect-worthy if he one day expected to be a good leader, one like Yifan. Saw the lines of stress carving themselves deeper around his eyes, the slump of his shoulders and the lame excuses of being alright.  Yixing saw everything, and the little he could do, he did, offering his best attitude; his heart swelled for the leader – who simply hadn’t Yifan’s imposing, awe-inspiring presence, but that loved and was loved in return – and Junmyeon became Yixing’s role-model, the figure he admired the most, the leader he will always count on.

 

It’s for those reason he sees himself halt the moment his manager comes to him with a phone on her ear; she’s a kind woman with plain features, and these are scrunched up in worry and something akin to dejection. His heart knows, knows that there is something wrong happening, and that it has to do with his Junmyeon-hyung for it clenches painfully on his ribcage, already suffering. Yixing waits for her to finish the call, immediately asking what’s going on a second after she bid goodbye to the person on the other side of the line.

 

She looks at him with a pitying stare – Yixing doesn’t like those, doesn’t like to be pitied – and hangs her head low, bob cut bouncing at the movement; she comes closer to him, whispering in rushed tones, eyes darting from side to side, as if afraid of someone snooping.

 

“ _You’re going back to Korea tonight. Kim Junmyeon-ssi has been missing for the past week and a half”_

 

Yixing thinks it’s the heat – Haikou is too hot this time of the year – coupled with the exhaustion the reason why he suddenly feels faint; it can’t be the shock from hearing his manager’s words, and yet, by the way the air leaves his lungs and his eyesight is dominated with bright, white nothing – Junmyeon’s ghost laugh ringing on his ears – he’s having a panic attack. In the distance he hears his teeth knocking together, and thin arms attempting to catch him.

 

They’re not Junmyeon’s arms, those very pale, very strong – Yixing saw him working them out too many times to count, and when asked, the leader said it was to catch them, his beloved members – arms which held him after extenuating hours of practice and schedules with insufficient food in between. They don’t turn Yixing to bury his face on a warm chest rumbling with soothing words – sometimes awkward for the lack of intimacy – of encouragement. The world closes around him, and Junmyeon can’t catch him this time.

 

 

.

 

 

The television must be mocking him; maybe he’s in one of those shows where they play pranks on people. Yes, that sounds reasonable. Well, it would sound reasonable if it isn’t for the fact that he’s alone in his house, which has a pretty damn good security system working perfectly, and that hasn’t reported any kind of error. Still, what the news are telling him is absurd, completely and absolutely terrifying at the same time.

 

Zitao blinks several times, using the remote to go back to the beginning of the news; the lady speaks clearly like she’s supposed to as a reporter, and to end doubts, the legends passing through the screen in time with her speech only confirms her words.

 

Kim Junmyeon, EXO’s leader Suho – _Sumama,_ Zitao thinks somewhat bitterly – has been missing for the past two months, and the veiled investigation going on about his whereabouts is finally being divulgated to the public, since there’s no progress from the police. All they could gather is Junmyeon’s hypothetical last location by the Han River, and his shattered phone with blood and the testimony of some people telling they saw him walking at night, alone and sluggish. By making the investigation public, they expect to get a lead; for now, EXO comeback activities are suspended, like any filming schedule, CF or photoshoot.

 

His head hurts with the beginning of a migraine, and Zitao scrunches up his forehead, biting his lip in an attempt to distract himself from the pain. He glares in the general direction of the television, getting up without bothering to turn it off; he goes to his room and falls on the king-sized mattress, sinking his face onto the soft pillows.

 

He won’t lie and say that he doesn’t miss EXO, despite the life he’s leading right now, full of luxury and no pressure from a company whose single objective is to drain and drain his youth in favor of making a profit; it wasn’t bad to have co-workers that became friends, brothers in everything but blood. Zitao doesn’t regret leaving either – he’s happier, healthier, relaxed – and the paradox of missing his past and his satisfaction with the present comes to his mind more than he would like. And now, the news of Junmyeon’s disappearance stirs something deep inside of him, an old longing for affection on difficult moments, or the soft weight of his ex-leader’s hand on his much bigger one.

 

Junmyeon was the closest thing to a mother on his time in Korea – Zitao is not ashamed to admit so, it’s true after all – and the older offered love and encouraging words when he felt down. He would push Zitao to a bed or couch and make the boy rest his head on his neck, his hands running through dyed hair softly, no words needed in that moment. Junmyeon did his best to understand him, and before his departure, had only whispered his good wishes in a choked voice and tight smile, not helping Zitao pack, but also not doing anything to stop him. Zitao hugged him that day, crying a little when his _Sumama_ didn’t hugged him back, his taut body practically oozing his misery and disappointment. Something had broken that moment – Zitao’s and Junmyeon’s hearts, perhaps – and no contact was kept.

 

The thought makes Zitao angry, and he gets up, picking the glass of water he keeps by his nightstand to throw at the wall, the shattering sound gratifying yet not enough; if Junmyeon had tried harder, fought harder, maybe Zitao would have stayed and nothing would have happened. In a time like this he would be whining for a break, hanging from the smaller man’s shoulders, careful to not put all his weight on them. He would whine for food and for attention, and would purr when Junmyeon would give up, not annoyed at all at him, secretly glad in spoiling his Chinese maknae. Zitao would shower with him and hop on his bed after the others went to sleep, curling around his _Sumama_ like a kitten. He would have never let the leader leave at night without his things or himself, no matter what excuse he gave, because Zitao knew that some days Junmyeon went weird, the normally bright leader seizing to exist to give place to a shadow, a ghost with glazed eyes.

 

This is ridiculous; Zitao hates this situation. The remaining members’ obligation is to protect their leader, who gave them all, not let him wander at night on one of his bad days. If they maintained contact – he doesn’t count the secret calls to Sehun every once in a while – and had parted in good terms, Zitao’s first action would be of rent a freaking jet to knock them out of their feet with his wushu skills; this is not the case, so instead he picks his phone – he won’t admit to anyone, but he still has photos of all the members stored in it; Xiumin’s mouth full of food, Jongin middle sneeze, Sehun flipping him off, Junmyeon’s body curled in bed drooling on his pillow, Jongdae’s shirtless and on top of a squirming half naked Baekhyun, red lipstick on one hand – after a quick internet research.

 

“ _Zheng Yi Fei Private Investigation; this is Wang Liang Liang speaking. How may I help you?”_

 

“Hello, I would like to contract _all_ of your best detectives”

 

 

.

 

 

Luhan doesn’t care what his manager, his fans, EXO fans or God will think; he programs a flight to South Korea the moment he sees the news of Junmyeon’s disappearance. His already _two months_ old disappearance; he curses and nearly throws a fit to himself, judging there was no one for him to do it. He knows Zitao must be thinking the same – he and his ex-leader had been extremely close, unlike his flirtatious, hyung-dongsaeng relationship with Junmyeon – probably also contracting all the detectives and investigators now he has tons of money, the bastard. Yifan is unpredictable on his actions, more oscillating than the ocean’s waves. The younger Chinese parted on the worst of terms with Junmyeon, their screams reaching the point of deafening; he remembers curling up on Yixing’s – oh, he misses Yixing a lot – chest while holding himself a trembling Zitao – they don’t talk a lot this days, their chosen paths becoming further and further apart –, who covered his ears with his hands and bit his lips raw.

 

His baggage is just some clothes; he leaves his house at night and from behind to avoid any lingering fan or paparazzi, a taxi already waiting for him. He inauspiciously arrives at the airport, checks in and enters his plane, just then starting to worry.

 

What will he say? Will he be able to talk with his ex-band members? Will they even _want_ to talk to him?

 

Suddenly tired, Luhan rests his face on the little circular window, exhaling deeply. Helplessness seems to drown his brain, and an unfair, unjustified anger at Junmyeon – why did you disappear? Why did he go out that day? What was he doing out so late at night? Didn’t he always tell them to be careful? – making his features contort into a frown.

 

He wants – and yet doesn’t – to meet the boys, but with what face?

 

 

.

 

 

It’s hard to hold a group that doesn’t want to be held.

 

Things are crumbling, and are crumbling fast. In the beginning, when the pain of losing Junmyeon so abruptly was still new, tender to the barest of winds, they all huddled together into a safe cocoon, eyes suddenly hawk-like to every movement – _where are you going? You’re not going out alone. I’m coming with you. Do you have your phone? I think it’s best to enroll on a self-defense class_. – around them in an attempt to judge who should and could be trusted. They got to the point of kicking Luhan out of their dorm when he appeared, dark bruises underneath his eyes and sheepish for he had no right to show up like this, after so long. They were all too raw, blood still seeping from the gashes left in Junmyeon’s absence.

 

But nothing lasts forever.

 

With the passing of each day, each week without progress, without news or reassurance that Junmyeon is aliv– they progressively started to drift apart, bitterness the scab used to cover the wound. Some now throw dirty glances at others, accusation shining in their eyes, while those others isolate themselves from the group, shoulders slumped by what can only be identified as guilt and despondency. They all lost weight, because all they eat – _when_ they eat – is take out food, since Kyungsoo stopped cooking two and a half months ago, one day simply throwing pans and glasses on the wall, the smashing noise agonizing, his talk diminishing to the strictly necessary; Jongin can’t sleep more than four hours a day even though he’s exhausted from dancing – he says it helps, numbing the pain temporarily – the circle under his eyes growing progressively darker and his appearance deteriorating now he doesn’t have Junmyeon to take care of him, walking seamlessly on the dorm like a ghost.

 

Chanyeol hasn’t touched his guitar for about two weeks counting, giving up after all he could do was crumple so much paper it took his room’s floor, and he always looks angry, ready to snap at anything and anyone; he can be seen going out on weird hours of the day – making Minseok’s life hell – only to come back at weirder ones, angrier and with less light on his eyes, cloudy and absent. Sometimes one can see him muttering to himself intelligible Korean, twisting his hands together on a new found habit that turns them red and rough, and he barks insults at their managers when they appear with food or – the lack of – news, accusing them of something they have no fault in, but he seems to need – wildly, to the point of obsession – to blame someone for Junmyeon’s disappearing. Yixing was – still is – considering going back to China, start a investigation there, SM’s support or not; he believes plainly than however took their leader, took him out of Korea, no matter what the lack of proofs – no sight of him on airports, no check in under his name – may suggest otherwise. He is one of those who were never close to Junmyeon, but they respect each other and Yixing admires him, loves him even; he was the only one who didn’t wanted to expulse Luhan, trying to reason with the other boys about how it was time to forgive and move on from old wounds.

 

Minseok aged ten years in the four months, four days, nine hours, eighteen minutes and fifty– fifty one seconds since their guardian was taken from them; he’s the new leader – he’s _not,_ never was, never will, because only Junmyeon can lead them, only him – and has obligations, such as managing their schedule. It’s mostly empty, with entire weeks of nothingness but practice, so they won’t forget the choreographies – who are they trying to fool? – for a possible comeback and for future tours. SM is keeping them alone, for once asking instead of ordering, like it knows they can’t survive the pressure without Junmyeon to hold most of its weight. Still, Minseok has to plan every public outing, every apparition, go to all interviews consisting on EXO’s situation and accompany the police investigations, coming back home – it’s not really home, slowly but surely losing its warmth, its safety feeling – with disappointment carved in his features, it paler than before, more drained and body bent with tiredness.

 

Sehun is slowly slipping away. He regressed to his trainee-days’ mentality, a shy but brash boy with distrust for all of them. He spends his days away from the dorm, and when he’s in there, he locks himself inside the room he shares – _shares –_ with Junmyeon, sleeping on the older boy’s bed, wearing his pillow and covers and clothes, even though those don’t fit well. His already mostly inexpressive face is blank, eyes reflecting nothing but a deep, alienating haze, like he’s perpetually lost on his own head. He talks little, and only to Jongin – it’s a pitiful vision, seeing these two together, crouched on the floor with uneven hairs, wrinkled clothes and bags under their eyes, voices merely whispers – Minseok and Yixing. He doesn’t cry, not a single tear after Chanyeol found Junmyeon’s bloody phone, and perhaps this is the most worrisome; he’s bottling it all up, and it will reach a time where he won’t contain his feelings anymore. This day, the day he explodes, is a day to be feared.

 

Jongdae is a shadow of himself; there’s no other way to describe him. No one remembers the last time they saw him speak anything but sarcastic, biting, hurtful words and cackle hysterical laughs that echoes in the – once lively – too silent dorm, his presence taunting and mean; he whispers to Minseok – his _bestfriend –_ how he’ll never be a good leader, or a leader at all, and that as the oldest, he should have helped Junmyeon more. He reads the nonsensical lyrics written by Chanyeol loudly, and mocks Jongin for his disheveled appearance, saying that he’s not EXO’s hottest guy anymore now he doesn’t have someone to tend to his every spoiled needs; he provokes Kyungsoo to the point of being dangerous, the younger turning his previously discipline-like violence into acts of hostility and despises Yixing’s company. No one dares to approach Jongdae when he’s like this, on his bad days. He has good days, when he simply and quietly walks around and watches TV, maybe stays on his bed and maybe bribes Sehun into giving him some of Junmyeon’s clothes with promises of sweets and a night with Junmyeon’s favorite plushie that he managed to steal before the youngest could seal the room to himself. He also has the very bad days in which he breaks down, weeping his agony onto Minseok or Chanyeol or even Kyungsoo’s chest, begging to them, to managers and directors and _God_ himself to just bring his Junmyeonnie-hyung back. Besides Sehun, he’s the one who seems to suffer the most without the leader.

 

It’s like they’re dying, slowly but surely, and Baekhyun doesn’t know what to do. He, who even if affected just like them, is trying with all of his forces to move on, because this situation is unmanageable. This is not living, it can be called surviving, a stubborn tentative of remaining together without crumbling for complete. Because Baekhyun knows that if they separate, things will get worse; they all remember how Junmyeon was broken after Yifan, then Luhan – he regrets sending him away, but it’s too late – and finally his baby Zitao went away. To separate would mean soiling the leader’s memory, taint his efforts to maintain them, stain his love, and this they can’t support.

 

Baekhyun always noticed that EXO spun around the leader’s existence, but never imagined that without him they would lose grip of themselves like now; such dependence is despicable, ridiculous in its’ intensity. He hates himself and EXO and Junmyeon for making them like this. Baekhyun doesn’t sing in a long time; his voice breaks often, throat sore from arguing with Chanyeol and screaming at Jongdae. He considers talking to a manager, Lee Sooman himself if needed, to return to their schedule, so like this they will have something to focus on, not all this free time to sink in self-pity, self-loathing, awareness, guilt and misery. They can survive; can wish for Junmyeon’s return while not continuing to live like zombies.

 

But how?

 

 

.

 

 

Far away from South Korea, from EXO’s dorm, Yifan drinks wine directly from the bottle.

 

He sighs and looks around, seeing the club lights and the moving bodies. He sips the wine; frowns, because he was never a wine type of guy.

 

His eyes inadvertently fix on his phone on top of the bar’s countertop, thoughts filling his mind with dangerous ideas.

 

After what seems like an eternity – but that in reality were merely two minutes – Yifan picks the object, going on his contact list. He finds the name he wants, and hits the call button.

 

“… _Hello?”_

 

 _“_ I want to talk”

 

“ _Then talk”_

 

“Face to face”

 

“ _… Sorry, that’s not possible”_

 

“It’s about… About Junmyeon”

 

The line goes silent for a long time, and Yifan thinks the person hanged up on him. He’s about finish the call, when he hears _“Okay… Gege”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it. Second part done.
> 
> I'm deeply sorry if it's bad; I kinda feel like I lost a bit of the fanfic's track... Well, sorry again.
> 
> I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, kudos-ed, bookmarked and enjoyed it even if not doing one of these. Hope to hear from you~
> 
> Third and last chapter may take some time to be updated 'cause, you know, college.
> 
> See you all (hopefully) soon~
> 
> ps: Still screaming because of EXO Teaser images. OMFG, I just can't with them~
> 
> ps2: Next chapter we'll have Chanyeol, Jongdae, Jongin, Kyungsoo and Minseok's point of view. And of course, Junmyeon's and what happened to him~


	3. After (End?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junmyeon...?

As a child, Minseok’s mother told him that violence wasn’t the answer to any question, any situation. She ingrained this into his mind after he started to fight back the bullies – _look, it’s Fat Cheeks! How much did you eat for them to be so round, Squirrel Boy? To have such an ugly face? –_ with his fists, hurting himself in the process; there were just too many of them. She explained to him that those kind of people wanted the attention they couldn’t get home, and took pleasure in hurting others for it eased their own hurt; if he ignored the words directed at him, they would surely stop. That way, Minseok learned to put a mask on his face, the peaceful façade people started to associate with him even after the bullies stopped bothering him. Undisturbed Minseok, Untouchable Minseok and later Baozi Xiumin, with chubby cheeks and quiet personality, EXO-M’s oldest and cutest; a boy of very few words. Quiet Sexy Oppa Xiumin, Mysterious Xiumin.

 

Still, he feels like committing murder, feels like picking Byun fucking Baekhyun by his neck and squeeze until he’s left with no air, just so Minseok will get rid of the younger’s stupidity.

 

To go all by himself to Lee Sooman, asking for them to return to their schedules, even though Junmyeon is missing for five months now was an act of commendable madness, a betrayal to them. The oldest from the old Beagle Line – that recently are nothing but angry (Chanyeol), resentful (Baekhyun), hysterical (Jongdae) boys with no guardian to guide their steps – was never the most intelligent and never the one who thought before acting, a combination that got him into trouble lots of times, and that right now, involved all of remaining EXO members. He had no right to go there and ask for such an absurdity, because how can he expect to do anything without Junmyeon’s gentle commands? Go to photoshoots that expect them to smile, CFs that make them pretend awed happiness and dramas and movies in which they have to act like boys in love?

 

Without Junmyeon? Ridiculous. The mere idea of being EXO without leader Suho – gentle, caring guardian Junmyeon – is actually ridiculous on Minseok’s opinion. As the oldest he is a little more insightful than the others, and so he perceives Baekhyun’s desperate act as such: a desperate act to make them move on or at least, attempt to live, and not survive like mindless zombies. And yet, Minseok is human, and he wishes to beat Baekhyun into a bloody p–

 

A painful throb of his head reminds Minseok that he has no time to plan Baekhyun’s impending death; if not by his hands, he’s sure Kyungsoo and Jongdae would more than willing to do the job themselves. He has to try and fix the mess he made, cancel the Vogue and Bazaar photooshoot+interviews and refuse a director’s request to have Jongin in a new drama; call the compositor responsible for the album they never launched – was it EX’ACT? Minseok can’t remember – and say that he’s sorry, but that Chanyeol doesn’t have a song ready and that Yixing never wrote any lyrics for it. Call coordi-noonas and makeup artists and hairstylists and explain that Sehun won’t ever appear as the main model for some stylist’s new collection and cancel with the TV show he himself Baekhyun and Jongdae were supposed to be guests on; Kyungsoo’s scheduled duet with a JYP idol also in desperate need to be revoked. He curses under his breath, checking the packed schedule – resulted from ten managers put together after four months of inactivity – on his phone, realizing that these are EXO’s agenda for the next _three days._ How he is expected to arrange everything in such sparse amount of time is a mystery to his tired brain. He barely managed to deal with the band’s compromises when they had weeks of nothingness, and just to see the hangul words filling every slot of hour of every day of the week causes Minseok nausea. He doesn’t know how Junmyeon dealt with all of this.

 

And because he’s not Junmyeon, Minseok messes up, and messes up badly.

 

His call with the director extends for hours, since the man expected a confirmation, not a cancelation, and so had a script written for Jongin ready; in the midst of apologies and negotiations – maybe Jongin could appear for just one or three episodes as a very side character? No? – Minseok doesn’t cancel Chanyeol’s and Yixing’s meeting with the compositor or Sehun’s role as one of the main models on the fashion show. By the time he finishes with the director – Jongin _will_ have to film seven episodes as the main character’s best friend who’ll die for the sake of a plot twist; it’s a better deal than Jongin as said main character, acting for twenty two episodes – he’s exhausted and his throat hurts from speaking too much. The situation gets worse when a manager sends a text saying he won’t be able to bring food and that Minseok will have to order – following the new diets laid out to all of them – and he notices that he lost the paper with all instructions and restrictions for what they should eat.

 

Minseok panics; he’s normally neat, almost freakishly so, but these days he has no time to even blink. His room is a mess like its owner, clothes scattered around it, dirty mixing with clean and bed unmade. He scurries around the dorm, invading everyone’s room – but Sehun’s, ‘cause the boy locks it when he goes out, leaving with the key and hiding the spare one – and opening drawers, with no success on his search. In the end, he orders the damned food, spending twenty more minutes on the phone as he struggles to remember each different diet, including his own. A memory of Junmyeon ordering food flawlessly crosses his mind, the leader’s voice calm and polite, reciting every dish quickly without the need of a paper, its instructions memorized; it’s shameful that the oldest can’t do that, and never bothered to know the extent of effort Junmyeon put on the simplest of tasks.

 

Food ordered, Minseok drops lifelessly on the couch, exhaling deeply, his head hammering on his ears. The sun shines brightly outside the dorm’s walls, the clock marking the early hour. Midday is yet to come, and he groans, wondering how he’ll survive another ten hours or so. Jongdae passes by him, mockingly cackling at his tired features, making sure to remind the oldest how incompetent he is in this job as a _leader –_ the word carries so much bitterness, so much longing and hurt – and Minseok recoils before the verbal attack, pity for Jongdae dueling with the urge to smack some sense into his depressed head. Chanyeol groans loudly, grabbing his things next to the door and leaving without offering any explication. The oldest can only sigh, closing his eyes temporally. He doesn’t realize he drifted off until the doorbell startles him out of his nap, and he curses – he’s been doing that a lot, his way to express frustration – at his lack of diligence. He pays for the food and summons the boys; Junmyeon would be awed in hearing him speak so loudly. He’s surprised when Yixing, Kyungsoo and Jongin – the latter’s decayed aspect sad to see – appear, no one else behind them. When did the members go out? For Heavens, Earth and Hell, where are they?

 

Hours later a stylist – the same one who demanded Sehun for her fashion show – screeches over the phone, yelling all kinds of obscenity because the show starts in one hour and _where is Oh Sehun?!_  At the same time, Chanyeol and Yixing – who went out after lunch, also not telling his destination – come in, both looking gloomy and mad, their steps leading them straight to Minseok. The oldest blinks at them, still trying to placate the harpy-like woman who is nearly screaming, the shrieks ringing on his head, eyesight whitening on the corners for the pain the sound causes on his migraine; an apology that must be the thousandth today tumbles past his lips, slightly quivered. He’s suddenly confronted by Chanyeol about why EXO’s compositor scolded both him and Yixing concerning a supposed song that never existed in the first place and how it is Minseok’s job to deal with this kind of thing, the stylist still talking his ears off, all at the same time.

 

Minseok feels like collapsing, dizzy with so much pressure and obligations.

 

Never in his life as an idol has he fallen on bed like now, limbs aching and no relief from a migraine which followed him the past day – the past week, past months – and no will to do anything else.

 

He thinks of Junmyeon’s patience, his resilience in molding schedules that often seemed impossible to complete, the way he could resolve situations with efficient calls or a stern voice; if he was there, Minseok would never have lost the paper with the diets’ instructions, or forget to warn the compositor about the inexistence of a song or forget to make Sehun go to that thrice damned fashion show. And all of this would never have happened, because if Junmyeon was there, he would be the one managing it all, not Minseok. His respect for the leader grows into new levels, Minseok imaging what EXO would have been without him for the past four years; probably what they are now, soulless nobodies, SM Entertainment’s failure and disappointment, a group with no organization, with members scattered around and disunited, bitter and angry at each other and their own selves.

 

Junmyeon and himself are not exactly close – not like he is with Sehun, Kyungsoo or Jongin – but are not distant like many may assume; they simply don’t show as much skinship together outside the dorm. But inside, oh, inside they like – liked? – to watch movies cuddled on the couch – Minseok used to put horror movies to hear the younger’s frightened complaints, because it was _funny,_ and Junmyeon forced him to watch Star Wars and Pirates of the Caribbean enough for a lifetime, _ugh –_ and attempt to cook by themselves, which never ended well. Minseok also scolded the younger for not keeping his room organized; he now understands how hard it is to think about cleaning when your head is full of so much stuff, pressing from all sides. Thinking about it makes a fresh wave of guilt weight his shoulder, since he wasn’t one to perceive Junmyeon’s over the top efforts, naturally accepting all as a leader’s basic obligation towards his members. He did everything alone, didn’t complained about doing it and found time to care for them in little ways that had nothing to do with a leader’s job, simple as putting a glass of water for him at night. The consideration is stunning.

 

So much for having a crush on the leader. Yes, he has one. Junmyeon is the second oldest, so he could understand when Minseok needed space for himself. He is handsome – occasionally cute – and despite not having the kind of humor that pleases Minseok, his overly silly jokes still were like a balm to the stress caused by too many compromises and too little sleep., and his hands are gentle when running through Minseok’s hair softly, his fingers eventually lowering to his temples to massage and relieve the lines of tension. Junmyeon is one you can confide on, a serious person and a stern leader on the right moments, and that seriousness attracted the oldest, by now fed up with the others members’ childishness. He couldn’t – still can’t – picture a relationship with Junmyeon and be worthy of it; his love insufficient and superficial next to Sehun and Jongdae’s.

 

Minseok’s only desire is to have Junmyeon back, safe and sound. He promises to himself and to every god out there that may have been hearing that if – _when –_ Junmyeon comes back, he’ll help. He’ll become a stronger person to help carry the burden, the heavy weight of responsibilities Junmyeon’s been carrying for five years; he’ll take care of his dongsaeng and maybe spoil him a bit with sweets and cuddles and indulge his wish to tell his awful dad jokes, laugh at them.

 

But first, Junmyeon needs to come home.

 

_Please gods, we need him. We just can’t hold on for much longer. Please, make him come back to us. To me._

 

 

_._

 

 

Jongin hears – not really; he can distinguish her voice and her angry tone, but is not attentive enough to know what she’s saying – the makeup artist scolding him with a blank expression, staring straight ahead where two actors revise their lines together; she’s the third today who decided to pick on him and honestly, Jongin couldn’t care less. It isn’t his fault that his hair was slightly greasy for too many days without washing – Junmyeon-hyung remembered him often to wash it, but never at night – and the hairstylist had to wash it three times, that his body doesn’t fit the clothes well – he lost weight; a lot of dancing and poor choices of food making this happen, since Junmyeon-hyung isn’t there to spoil him with chicken and nag at him to eat proper and regularly – and made the stylist spend forty minutes digging for something for him to wear that matched the character. It is not his fault that sleep has become a luxury he’s not capable of afford, as nightmares are his company when he closes his eyes, and that the area around them is affected by darkening until they’re black and sore like bruises. The woman shouldn’t scold him for it, as it isn’t his fault.

 

Junmyeon-hyung would know; he would coo at Jongin, softly caressing the dark bags with cold fingers – hyung’s fingers are almost always icy; he gets cold easily – before pushing him to the sofa or bed, going to the kitchen to prepare tea. After giving it to Jongin, he would make him rest for as long as he could, some days half an hour, others two hours. If he saw necessary, Junmyeon-hyung would let him sleep on the van, and on the backstage, trying and mostly failing in shushing the other EXO members. He would force them to finish their schedules early – they would complain and sulk – so he could pay them a good dinner and put them to bed, all for Jongin – the others too, but he likes to think it’s more to himself – to sleep longer.

 

Since he disappeared – five months, thirteen days, fifteen hours, eight minutes and twenty-seven seconds ago; _why are you taking so long, hyung? –_ Jongin feels like perpetually living on top of a cloud, absentminded of the world spinning around him and forgetful of everything; he’s always been like this, but with Junmyeon by his side, Jongin forgot – see? Forgetful – what it meant to be reprimanded for this personality trait, since his leader seemed to remember everything for him. The only things that don’t escape his mind are the music – its dance, soothing to his hurt heart – and the days which Minseok goes to the police station to ask for news, often coming back with slumped shoulders and a shadow on his eyes. Funny, Jongin doesn’t remember the last time he saw Minseok-hyung walk straight and without looking like carrying something very heavy on said shoulders.

 

Maybe he’s just old. Junmyeon used to joke – he’s not the conventional funny, but he’s funny, and Jongin regrets never telling him this, instead feeling embarrassed at his leader’s cute antics – that Jongin wasn’t the cute little kid he’d met years ago, but an old man inside the body of a twenty-three year old boy, with his habit of sleeping anywhere and anytime – it doesn’t happen now – and forgetful brain. Maybe it’s because he’s getting old that Jongin recently has been having difficulties reminiscing Junmyeon’s laughter or the crinkling of his eyes, the feeling of his narrow waist beneath his hands when they back-hugged or hyung’s strong arms and legs taunt with the effort of mimicking his dance moves, the sweat that polled between his eyebrows and plastered his hair on his forehead. Jongin can’t remember the exact timbre of his voice – deep? soft? raspy? high? – or the color of his eyes – dark brown? black? hazel? – and his favorite joke.

 

To not be capable of pinpoint Junmyeon’s favorites and dislikes with precision, to forget a bit more each passing week is like a stab on his heart, an ever aching pain that refuses to wan and stubbornly insists on growing with no means to be stopped. Jongin can agree with Jongdae – he’s mean nowadays, mocking his appearance and lethargy, his new-acquired childishness; it’s not his fault! What’s he supposed to do without Junmyeon?! – about being spoiled; he indeed is, or at least, used to. Early on his career, before it even, Junmyeon was a constant on his life, the hyung he would seek for comfort and advice, an example of hard-work and perseverance, his mentor, his friend, brother, mother and father all in one. Since the beginning of his teenager years he depended on Junmyeon-hyung, and after, as EXO, he took advantage of his leader’s certain preference for the maknaes.

 

Until recently – more like, until before Junmyeon’s abduction – he never thought of himself as a person overly dependent on other. He started to see differently the moment he called for Junmyeon to ask for his clothes, to help him dry his hair, ask about his schedule and which food they would be having that day, or simply to spend some time together and was answered by utter silence – on unlucky days, another torrent of Jongdae’s spiteful words, Sehun’s broken whines and trembling skinny physique. When he perceived himself inept to arrange and follow his schedule. When he got sick after sleeping with his hair wet. When he injured his leg once again and there was no-one to cuddle and pamper him.

 

Krystal says he’s a motherless child. She’s being outstandingly understanding of the situation, and lets him have his space. She also kind of adopted a bit of Junmyeon-hyung’s attitudes towards him, gently calling him to remind him of a schedule or to eat something that’s not takeout – Krystal offers to cook – before taking off to wherever he needs to go. Jongin is very grateful for her, but he’s not oblivious; the strain his behavior is clearly putting on their relationship grows every day and he doesn’t know if they’ll remain a couple for much longer. Taemin is not as considerate as his girlfriend; he and Junmyeon are friends too, but he can’t see why Jongin and EXO are decaying without the leader, semi-living through the days, and gets mad at the blankness he finds in Jongin. Wonshik is something in between the two, quietly supportive, but confused at his deterioration.  At this rate, Jongin doesn’t know if he cares.

 

Yes, he’s the most spoiled child of all times, and he wants Junmyeon-hyung! No one else!

 

A repetitive clicking sound wakes him from his current line of thinking; it’s Minseok, snapping his fingers frantically in front of his face, his face glowing like it hasn’t for the past months. His eyes are what make Jongin see that whatever he’s here for, it’s something serious, yet good: they’re bright, alight with an emotion that it’s pure and unaltered joy, the brown of them drowning in crystalline tears that doesn’t spill. A spike of heat, subtle but there, stirs on his chest. The little hope which he holds dear is suddenly awake and attentive to his current leader – only temporally, until Junmyeon-hyung is back – words.

 

“They found him, Jongin-ah” Minseok’s voice is teary and hushed, but discernible. Jongin freezes “They found _him,_ Jonginnie! We need to go!”

 

Jongin scrabbles out of the chair he’s sitting on – it falls audibly, and the makeup artist grumbles something from afar – almost meeting the floor with his face; Minseok grabs his arm to steady him, but his hands shake, just like Jongin knows his own body is shaking. Black spots obscure his eyesight for a second and he breathes in deeply, having stopped breathing in shock. His knees knock together, and his body turns uncooperative, feet gluing on the floor.

 

They found him? Found Junmyeon? _Junmyeon-hyung?_

 

“J-Jun–…” he tries to say, but the name can’t get past his lips. One single tear escapes Minseok’s eyes, and he nods.

 

His body works again, and Jongin follows Minseok to the van waiting for them with a skip to his steps and lips stretching to show teeth in a display of practically forgotten happiness.

 

A lid opens inside his mind, and he remembers everything, to the hitch of Junmyeon’s voice when he’s excitedly telling about something he enjoys, to the slight wrinkle on the corner of his eyes and his stern expression when faced with a situation that displeased him. He doesn’t make questions for he doesn’t need them. All he wants is to go to wherever Junmyeon-hyung is and wrap his arms around him, let his cold but comforting hands assure him that from now on everything is going to be alright, that he’s going to be by Jongin’s – the band’s – side forever.

 

 

.

 

 

His whole body thrums with anticipation, and for that reason, and that reason only, Kyungsoo accepts Zitao, Luhan and specially Yifan’s – the bastard, imbecile, heartbreaker motherfu- son of a _mistress_ – presence next to him, despite pointedly ignoring them by looking at the rented vehicle’s window – also during all the three hours flight, on Zitao rented jet. For what may be the nth time on his life, he wishes to kill Baekhyun for making the arrangements of who would go with whom in the minivans. At least, the dog ended up with him and those three, plus Yixing, a detective, a manager and the driver. Serves him right.

 

Kyungsoo isn’t one to hold a grudge against someone, but with the three Chinese men the story is a bit different: they were the ones who broke Junmyeon’s – the name makes his heart beat faster, expectation curling on his stomach at the idea of seeing him again – heart over and over, one after the other. As the leader’s best-friend, Kyungsoo had been the one to console him on each departure, holding the normally strong body – so tiny and fragile on such moments – as it shook with ugly sobs, his shirt drowning in salty water. He had been the one to carefully pull Junmyeon out of his state of desolation, reminding him that no, he wasn’t a bad leader – he wa– _is_ the best leader of all times – and that yes, some may have left, but there were still eight boys who stayed and desperately needed him as guardian. So yes, Kyungsoo isn’t one to hold a grudge, but there are always exceptions.

 

The atmosphere could have been awkward if not for the fact that in less than twenty minutes he would finally be reunited with his best-friend, leader and guardian. He doesn’t comprehend why Luhan or Yifan – once more, the damned piece of trash – care about Junmyeon at all, since they abandoned EXO with barely a notice, one day packing and leaving. He can understand Zitao; the younger never seemed to love the band and his Sumama – Kyungsoo cringes at the nickname – less, not even before his departure, not after it, secretly keeping contact with Sehun, who thought of himself as discreet. Kids.

 

Also, it is because of Zitao and his wealth that Junmyeon was located on first place, so Kyungsoo can forgive him a little. He glances at the detective – a woman on her fifties named Lin Na, with stern features and sterner posture – and silently thanks her. By the corner of his eyes he notices Yifan trying to touch Yixing’s arm, who instinctively curls away, pressing his body close to Baekhyun. Luhan pats the dejected figure, and Yifan frowns, gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. A little pity for them threatens to appear, but Kyungsoo suppresses it, not willing to let the two infiltrate into his life ever again. It doesn’t matter that they somehow helped finding his best-friend – the credit goes to Zitao’s bank account and Lin Na – and fulfilled the basic duty of warning EXO. 

 

China. Junmyeon in the end is indeed outside Korea, like Yixing had suspected: more specifically, he’s been living in Zhuge Bagua, Village, a small village named after someone important – Kyungsoo doesn’t remember his history lessons, not that the information means anything to him, ‘cause it doesn’t – where apparently the descendants of said important person stayed together. The place looks… old, for lack of better words, with ancient looking temples and traditional houses crumpled together.

 

Lin Na starts to explain – even her voice sounds severe – in Mandarin about being almost there, Kyungsoo picking enough words to understand the content of her conversation. She starts to explain some things and he’s lost; he considers asking for Yixing to translate, but the older boy listens the woman with rabid attention, his mouth opening slightly in concentration, and he’d rather eat Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s experimental food than ask for the other Chinese men to explain, since the information appears to not be new for them. He catches words like ‘two’ ‘house’ ‘couple’ ‘water’ yet in general, can’t make sense of what she means. At some point Yixing heaves a sigh, clutching Baekhyun’s hand tightly. He spends the rest of the ride in silence.

 

When Kyungsoo is about to rip his hair off out of frustration and impatience, the minivan comes to a halt, making his body jerk forward on the seat. All but ripping the seatbelt from his body, he steps out of the vehicle before it really stops moving, and he’s not the only one: behind him, the other minivan stops too, and a staggering Jongdae exits, followed by Sehun. Both tremble, visible at this distance, and the maknae clutches possessively next to his body a bag full of Junmyeon’s clothes and personal objects, like plushies, mangas and his favorite cologne. Kyungsoo admires Sehun for one moment; to be able to pack this while being in such state – completely and absolutely unstable emotionally – considering Junmyeon’s preferences on top of that is surely worthy of note, and he respects the youngest more for the control over himself. Jongdae is another story, the opposite extreme of control; Minseok has to put an arm around his waist for him to move, pushing the shaking body onwards gently.

 

They’re all reunited in front of a battered house with peeling paint and mold creeping up the walls; Lin Na speaks again, and turns to knock. An elderly woman opens the door, the creaking of it ringing on Kyungsoo’s ears, and he himself feels the light shaking of his hands, the anxiety eating him away. Why is taking so long? Where is Junmyeon? Is he living in this house? Why?

 

Lin Na speaks quietly with the woman, who shakes her head and gives space for them to enter; Yixing prevents them from running inside by explaining that the woman’s husband is sick and sleeping, and that Junmyeon will come to them, but that he’ll do so slowly. Kyungsoo wants to make too many questions – he’s not the only one, judging Minseok and Chanyeol’s inquisitive gazes – but bites his tongue and obeys, not wanting to give the elderly woman trouble. He has a presentiment that the house will soon be filled with all kinds of noise, and the little he can spare her, he will.

 

Chanyeol has to hold Sehun and Jongin, while Minseok holds Jongdae, those in no conditions of obeying Yixing’s instructions with Junmyeon so painfully close to them. Zitao enters first, and Kyungsoo is next, passing in front of Luhan and Yifan – no way in hell he’ll let the two see his Junmyeonnie before the EXO members – and stopping on what it seems to be the living room. The room is scarcely furnished, with a small table on the middle, a cabinet full of cutlery and one or two vases; on top of the table, two cups of tea lay abandoned, steam still rising from them. Smells of Oolong.

 

A closing click halts Kyungsoo curious inspection of the place, and he notices all his band members are surrounding him, on different states of mind, but all with the same burning desire to see their leader, their guardian Junmyeon. Jongdae is by now full on crying, sniffling brokenly behind him, Minseok doing his best to shush and calm him, when he too sounds choked up. Baekhyun bounces on his tiptoes, containing his expectation, and Jongin does his best to tidy up his appearance for the first time in almost six months, tan fingers running through his hair and smoothing his shirt. Chanyeol’s lips are already curling at the edges, and he bites his lips so hard it won’t last longer without cutting. Sehun still keeps a tight grip on the bag, and the objects inside it rattle softly thanks to the intensity of his trembling, his normally blank face more expressive than ever before: wide eyes frantically searching for Junmyeon and mouth hanging open, bottom lip shaking like the rest of him. Yet, Yixing frowns and worriedly exchanges a few words with Luhan and Lin Na.

 

The elderly woman accesses them with milky eyes full of knowledge and a hint of sadness. Her wrinkled mouth smiles briefly, just as she calls“水!”

 

Shuǐ? Water? What?!

 

For an eternity, nothing happens.

 

Then it does.

 

A boy appears from behind a door, peeking curiously with dark eyes at the large amount of people.

 

It takes Kyungsoo just short of a minute to recognize the boy as Junmyeon, and he’s not the single one; a rough gasp that could belong solely to Chanyeol, a whimper from Jongdae, a shaky sigh probably coming from Sehun and an exclamation from Baekhyun follow suit, and soon other sounds mix within the group; half-formed questions and choked cries, some mutterings and hushed reassurances parting from those a little more of control. Kyungsoo is not one of those, silent and frozen in place.

 

Of everything Kyungsoo expected when he imagined meeting Junmyeon, this certainly he hadn’t thought. The boy – _Junmyeon –_ is a sack of bones, sharp angles perceptible through a plain shirt that has seen better days and faded pants. Everything looks overly pointy – collarbones, jawline, hipbones; ribs protuberant and skinny wrists – enough to cut at the slightest of contacts. Long dark brown hair – natural, long rid of dyes – falls messily on part of his face, curling minimally on the tips by his shoulders, another part of it tied in a small bun – the visual would be laughable if the situation was anything but serious – on the top of his head. The paleness of his skin is covered by a very subtle tan, and to Kyungsoo’s horror, a rather large scar, still rough around the edges, runs from the middle of his neck to his clavicle, disappearing inside his shirt. Another scar, infinitely smaller mars his forehead, just beneath his hairline. He has some fading bruises on his arms, and as he walks closer to them, a limp on his left leg it’s noticeable.

 

But what actually hurts, breaks every barrier Kyungsoo raised all over his heart, wets his eyes with tears is the way Junmyeon looks at them: openly curious, and end. No relief, no love, no **recognition.** Hysterically, Kyungsoo thinks of laughing; this just turned into one cliché drama, with the main character losing their memory after an accident or traumatic event. It’s so ridiculous and heartbreaking at once he loses his breath, and can’t move.

 

The notion of Junmyeon not knowing them is not nearly sufficient reason for Jongdae, who sprints towards the boy, encasing him on his arms, his sobs now high and desperate. Junmyeon’s eyes widen and his body tenses, but after a moment, something different – similar to fondness, and Kyungsoo wants to cry so badly – shines on his orbs, and he gently allows himself to be embraced, his hands hesitantly resting on Jongdae’s shoulders. He doesn’t speak, but makes a vague noise with the back of his throat, like a purr, but sharper. Sehun can’t contain himself for a second more it seems, and he shoves the bag on the arms of a paralyzed Minseok, running past Kyungsoo – bumping roughly on his shoulder – to embrace Junmyeon himself, his own cries blubbing from his throat. Junmyeon blinks, obviously overwhelmed, and yet he doesn’t move – a caregiver, despite all – letting Sehun hug him too; this is, until his legs fail him and he almost falls, Jongdae and Sehun’s arms quickly picking him and lowering him to the floor, where he sits and lets the two continue with their weeping, more comfortable than before. Sehun buries his face on the lengthy hair while Jongdae does the same, but with his face between the juncture of neck and shoulder.

 

Yixing whispers something to the old woman, and she replies without taking her eyes from the scene displayed. Yixing nods, and turns to the statue-like members.

 

“She… She told me that she and her husband found Jun– Junmyeon floating on Zhong Chi Lake, two months ago. They thought he was… dea-death but he moved and… And they took care of him” Yixing pauses to breathe, his respiration shaky “They named him Shuǐ, water, because he can’t understand what they say, and, and, he came from water. They have no kids, and Junmyeon is a blessing to them”

 

Oh, Junmyeon. Brightening the life of others unconsciously, so typical.

 

“B-But” Baekhyun tries to speak, but he gags on his sobs “Hyung–”

 

“Ju-Jun-Junmyeon…? Is that…. My name?” a cracking voice, rough from disuse interrupts Baekhyun, who instantly shuts up and spins to meet Junmyeon’s wide eyes staring at them with a mix of curiosity and awe. “I can… Understand?”

 

A loud cry escapes Jongin, however, contrarily to both Sehun and Jongdae, he approaches Junmyeon carefully, wobbly steps in nothing reminding his natural dancer graciousness; Kyungsoo feels pity and amazement at the courage he shows, his own feet seemingly made of heavy rocks, tears dripping from his face the only movement of his body “Junmyeon-hyung…”

 

Junmyeon looks at him, blinking repetitively; he offers a free hand – that is not slowly running through Jongdae’s back comfortingly, a common act ages ago, most likely unconscious – to the younger, bewildered but reassuring. Jongin all but forgets his hesitancy, giving two large footsteps to fall on his knees on front of Junmyeon, grabbing the offered hand in between his two, shoulders trembling as he nuzzles into it, alike to Sehun, who does the same into Junmyeon’s hair. Junmyeon returns the affection by leaning more on Sehun’s chest.

 

“It’s okay” Junmyeon says, frowning softly like he does when concentrating, as if he has trouble recording the right words. He wets his lips “Hush all of you, everything is alright. You were looking out for me, right? I’m here”

 

Renewed tears drip from Kyungsoo eyes as he’s faced with the vision that is Junmyeon with no memories whatsoever of them, yet acting like the guardian he never stopped being, consoling the mess they are when he undoubtedly is just as stunned as them. The unexpected fluke of information on his blank memory would drive any lesser person a little mad and mistrustful, since there’s no way to proof if those people are saying the truth – there are, thousands of pictures, dozens of videos, but Junmyeon doesn’t know that – or simply attempting to fool him and yet, he’s acting like Kim Junmyeon: blindly trusting, believing in a person’s best intentions, not reaching the point of considering their bad side. Kyungsoo remembers scolding him a lot for this on their trainee days, when some of the seniors tricked him into doing things for them; eventually, a self-centered teenager Junmyeon was humbled by the years of fruitless training and the mocking gazes of trainees who debuted before him in less time, or showed more promise than him. As a very important part of his best-friend story, Kyungsoo knows how important this was to transform Junmyeon into this caring being, worried about others even when facing unfavorable conditions himself.

 

“You all…” he starts again, blushing under so many attentive eyes. He lowers his head – Jongdae snuggles closer – so part of his hair hides his face “Everyone is here for me? Do you know me? Can you tell me who I am, please?”

 

To everyone’s surprise, it’s Chanyeol who moves forward, confidently walking despite his tear-stained face and red nose; he stops in front of Junmyeon, crouching down to be on the same level – with him so skinny, he looks like a child near someone as big as the rapper – as their leader. He messes with Jongin’s hair – the dancer bares his teeth at him, before continuing to play with Junmyeon’s hand – and rubs Sehun’s back – he whines, burying his face further into Junmyeon’s hair – but doesn’t dare to touch Jongdae. To all EXO members, it’s mutual knowledge that approaching the vocalist right now is the same as asking to have your hand bitten off. “You are Kim Junmyeon, our guardian”

 

With six words, Chanyeol gives this lost, frail boy – Shuǐ – an identity.

 

Junmyeon’s eyes fill with tears, and he nods, accepting easily what is presented to him.

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t wait anymore. He goes to his best-friend.

 

Behind him, all the members – under the sorrowful eyes of Zitao, Luhan and Yifan – follow his steps, circling Junmyeon. They hug each other and him, whispering tidbits of silly facts – Junmyeon’s favorite movies, shampoo, clothes and cologne. The food he dislikes, the day he slipped and fell on top of Minseok’s crouch, how he burned noodles with Baekhyun, the fights over the remote control with Chanyeol, and how he is scared of basically everything – on his ears, crying together, like one. Junmyeon receives them with open arms, crying himself in what Kyungsoo believes is dazed relief. That moment, so simple and pathetic – adults weeping like babies on the floor of a very old house in a foreign country, being watched by at least six other people – is enough to begin to heal the deep wounds left by their guardian’s disappearance. He hears from more than one voice promises to take care of this frail body, this person who for years took care of them.

 

EXO always rotated around Junmyeon, after all.

 

 

.

 

 

The world could end right now, for all Jongdae cared.

 

Like this, with Junmyeon’s body snuggled close to his, he feels complete and accomplished; the soft skin under his fingertips, the warmth he radiates and the small huffing laughs he makes at every idiotic joke on television the closest of perfection than Jongdae ever envisioned. Having Junmyeon near him is enough, but having Junmyeon against his body, sharing space and heat, is bliss, especially after the painful, miserable months of nothingness and despair; it still shocks him, and Jongdae dreads it’s all a beautiful dream, a delusion made by someone whose mind finally collapsed from heartbreak. Nothing can compare to this, not the adrenaline of a show, not the satisfaction of hitting the highest of notes, not travelling across the world and have your name chanted by thousands. This, this is his personal heaven.

 

“Jongdae-yah, you’re squeezing me too hard” Junmyeon squeaks, wriggling on his lap, and Jongdae immediately loosens his hold around the too thin – Junmyeon is gaining weight, but not as quickly as he would like – waist “Thank you”

 

On a perfect world, the moment Junmyeon entered EXO’s dorm, his memory would come back, years of hard-work and sweat and tears, years of jokes, cuddles and homemade meals shared on a living room too packed to move properly suddenly part of his being once again. He would cry and hug his members, scolding them for their battered shapes while kissing their foreheads and cheeks and basically everywhere he could reach. Junmyeon would shriek at his own appearance and demand a hairstylist and shaving cream for his legs – he never liked too much hair – and pout when the members started to laugh at his antics. He would want to start EXO activities the next day, and ask for a phone to contact family, friends, managers, directors and just everyone he could think of. With shaking hands Junmyeon would ask for Sehun or Kyungsoo to accompany him on his bath, and snuggle into the first willing person who agreed to give him some of the affection he probably so desperately needed. He would tell the same bad old jokes and laugh at them himself. On a perfect world, the EXO member’s relationships would go back to being great, become deeper and closer.

 

Unfortunately, the world isn’t perfect.

 

For a start, Junmyeon didn’t remember anything when he stepped inside the dorm; he looked at the place curiously – like he seemed to do with everything these days – before going back to fit between Sehun and Jongdae, whom his no memory self latched on instinctively, since the two were the ones to approach him, to _need_ him desperately. It’s been one month, and with frequent therapy sections, he forces himself to remember; mostly small, automatic things, like where Kyungsoo keeps the spices or who’s the owner of the weird pineapple with coconut hair conditioner and his favorite dish. Sometimes he remembers big things, like his parents and brother, the day of their first win and their debut, Luhan’s departure – now he also recalls Zitao’s, but never Yifan’s – and his first kiss with a boy, when he discovered EXO meant his life. More importantly, Junmyeon is beginning to fill the days previous to Zhuge Bagua and life as Shuǐ, where only darkness existed before; a room full of pictures of EXO, a king-size bed with gold n’ purple covers, a girl with inconstant features – curly, wavy or straight hair? blue, brown or black eyes? pale and tall or tanned and small? – bringing him food and smiling with sharp canines, a window with old railings. Him jumping out of said window after weeks – months? – rusting it with the water she provided him. Hurting his leg. Walking astray. Woods with piercing branches. Bone-deep tiredness, a lake. The process is slow and painful, but Junmyeon accepts it greedily.

 

EXO’s relationships are a lot alike Junmyeon’s recovery: slow and painful. Things were said and people got hurt, distance grew into awkwardness and the lingering blaming they still fight to surpass; Jongdae walks on eggshells near Minseok – all of them, really – the guilt of treating his best-friend so cruelly falling on his shoulders all at once. Junmyeon’s presence already works as a balm, alleviating the ever-present tension built in the months of his absence, and everyone tries their best to go back to the peaceful times where they acted like friends and brothers, for Junmyeon and themselves. Minseok continues to lead them, but now Chanyeol helps sorting the schedule and Kyungsoo is back to cooking, more thoughtful than any restaurant could be of their necessities. No one exits the house without warning; they all talk with each other, and dote on Junmyeon.

 

The past month showed them that their guardian changed. Without a large part of his memories, he’s shyer, hesitant on his ways and childish on others; he took quite a liking to Sehun – naturally; the maknae is obsessively possessive of his hyung, hawk eyes following him and spoiling him rotten, pushing him to his body at every given opportunity – and to Yixing – unexpected, they were never close – but above all, he took a liking towards Jongdae.

 

To say he’s elated is a euphemism; Jongdae is absolutely, completely… god, there are no words capable of express how he feels. Exhilarated, jubilant, overjoyed, living on Cloud 9, his nirvana on earth, if a definition is absolutely necessary. He loves the person that is Kim Junmyeon since the first time their eyes crossed on a practice room, both trainees with stars on their eyes – Jongdae – and maturity beyond their years – Junmyeon – and honestly, now he’s sufficiently coherent, he can say that a life without Junmyeon is unthinkable, impossible for him who depends of the guardian so much to simple exist. Junmyeon is the light in the end of his tunnel, the sun that brightens his days and the full-moon that shines on the darkness of his nights; the warmth of his cold, depressed days and the cool air of his angry, bitter, hot days. He’s pathetic, he knows, but what should he do? Stop loving Junmyeon? Is that even possible? Better, who in their rational mind would consider stop loving Junmyeon, this boy that loves with all his heart and cherishes people for what they are?

 

The idea of losing him had been devastating on his soul; he felt like a lonely lightening in a world without thunder and water. Maniacally, he sought this pain, fed on her; his form to connect with the ghost of Junmyeon’s existence, dimmer through the passing months. He hurt others to make them feel a speck of his pain, make them regret never treating their leader appropriately, make them know how useless all of them were – himself included – when there was no Suho to spoon-feed them, spoil them and bear all the weight of responsibilities that should belong to EXO, a group. If he destroyed himself and EXO, Junmyeon would have to come back and fix everything like the guardian he is, right? Or at least, his frantic mind thought. Oh no, he won’t ever let life bring them apart, never did, never will, and now, now he has something he hadn’t before. Opportunity.

 

And this opportunity he has right here, offered to him on a silver plate is not one he’ll lose. In his mind he comprehends that Sehun was once the closest to Junmyeon, followed by Kyungsoo and then Jongin; he fitted somewhere between Chanyeol and Minseok, his level of understanding the leader not as high as the rapper – he can’t grasp why Chanyeol seems to know Junmyeon so well when they’re friends, nothing else – but still better than his best-friend. Sehun clearly is not willing to lose this spot as he loves Junmyeon as much as Jongdae, decaying like a flower with no water without him, reaching the point of losing himself, dancing on the borders of sanity and obsession. Jongdae notices how the maknae sneakily manages to lay down his true feelings – love _love,_ the kind that made two people become **lovers** – towards their guardian with minimal risks of others realizing it; ugly emotions like envy, resentment and wariness coil on his stomach, and he hates himself a little for this, yet… Junmyeon.

 

The grounds are equal now, no previous preference – he unhappily admits that otherwise, he would hold no chance against Sehun – existing on the quest involving Junmyeon’s heart. He no longer will look from afar his leader laugh at some sassy commentary from Sehun, no longer will have to wait in the sidelines for a bit of his attention, neither compete with Jongin for it, satisfied with scraps. Jongdae will not gaze longingly at Junmyeon’s back, expecting the leader to turn to look at him as more than a friend, a dongsaeng he has to take care of, and not just smile his ever so bright smile, full of love for him, still not… _Enough_ love. Coming from Junmyeon, Jongdae accepts anything, but his hunger for him is never satiated, instead growing and growing and threatening to eat him alive, consuming his entire being with the raw need to possess the one he loves.

 

If Junmyeon asks for him to jump, all Jongdae will do is ask: _how high?_

 

Pathetic.

 

Junmyeon calls him then, a worried frown marring his face – the scar on his forehead scrunches up – and Jongdae realizes this has been going for a while; him thinking and Junmyeon trying to get his attention. He smiles and gives the first excuse he can invent, and watches with amusement as the older seems to consider it, accessing him with the eyes of a leader, measuring his words to try and see its truthfulness, like he did a lot before a stage, when asking if they were ready. The vision is so… Suho-like Jongdae resists the urge to kiss the pursing lips and smolder Junmyeon on his embrace. He can’t do either; Sehun appears in the room – fully clothed on winter garments, likely back from a schedule – and that diverges Junmyeon’s eyes from him; he smiles at the maknae brightly, whose arms open in a clear signal and climbs out of Jongdae’s lap to hug him – he still limps a little while walking – burying his face on the Sehun’s chest. The youngest shoots him a victorious look from above Junmyeon’s shoulders, holding him close to his body, one hand on his waist – dangerously close his ass – and the other holding Junmyeon’s head to bury his nose on the recently cut hair, inhaling deeply. Junmyeon giggles, complaining that it tickles.

 

Jealousy burns in the pit of Jongdae’s stomach; the scene makes him sick.

 

All he wants is for Junmyeon to be by his side, to love him a tiny little bit like Jongdae loves him.

 

Sehun is his rival, and this time, he won’t let himself lose.

 

 

.

 

 

Sehun smirks, arching an eyebrow to the blushing leader, who stands next to his bed, clutching a Star Wars plushie to his chest. He lifts the covers on a silent offering, and holds his excited giggles by scoffing loudly as Junmyeon tucks himself inside, immediately turning to not face the youngest. Sehun doesn’t mind, using the position to hug him from behind, in one of those classic spooning arrangements, jumbling their legs together. He kisses his guardian’s – the one he loves the most in this world – hair and asks if everything is alright.

 

Junmyeon answers by whining a little, saying it’s nothing; by now – eight years of familiarity – Sehun is an expert on his body language, and Junmyeon certainly has something bothering him. He tells him this, and receives an elbow on his ribs. Before he can curse or sass the leader, said leader mumbles incoherently. Pressing for a minute, Sehun makes Junmyeon admit some of his insecurities. As EXO’s leader, he’s expected to do a lot of things, but how he’ll meet the expectation when hasn’t done it in so long? He has just started to recall bigger, meaningful information, and by now he remembers the members, his family – somehow, he still doesn’t feel really comfortable with being with his family, deciding to visit them once a week – and life as an idol quite well, but he feels like he can’t do as well as he did before. He worries about the wound on his leg – better now, with physiotherapy – and the scars on his forehead and torso, his thinness, afraid fans will despise his appearance.

 

Junmyeon, Sehun thinks, it’s just being Junmyeon; over worrying and overanalyzing every aspect of his life. He explains this to the leader, kissing his nape at every clumsy attempt at soothing his worries, relishing in the puffs of laughter escaping from Junmyeon’s mouth.

 

Indeed, life is good like this. He has his love back – and he won’t ever, _ever_ let him out of his sight again – and close to him. EXO is finally back in the tracks, and their relationships with each other improve day by day, like Junmyeon’s memories – these days he remembered kissing Jisoo accidentally, and Sehun’s disliking for the other grew; he also remembered the first time they shared a bed with Zitao, way back – have been. Junmyeon, ever since coming back, developed a need of physical contact he didn’t have previously – maybe he’s trying to make himself believe that what he’s living is real – and Sehun is more than glad in helping him sate this need, cuddling and kissing his face at any time. Unfortunately for the maknae, there are others content in doing the same. Minseok likes to walk around the dorm holding Junmyeon’s hand, and Baekhyun naps on his lap more often than not. Yixing – _Yixing! –_ sits glued to the leader when discussing a song, and Kyungsoo serves him first, and takes care of his every necessity; Chanyeol lives hanging on Junmyeon’s back and with his shoulder occupied by him sleeping. Jongin follows him everywhere like a puppy, and nuzzles into his neck at every given opportunity.

 

The worst is Jongdae, though. The lead vocalist is fighting him for the right of being Junmyeon’s chosen one, and that Sehun can’t, won’t, I’d-rather-die-than do. For months Sehun felt his sanity slipping through his fingers, Junmyeon’s presence not there to stabilize him; some days he felt depressed and lonely, on others angry at everyone and anyone and others which he felt nothing at all, a blankness worse than all negative feeling combined together, for it made him forget about Junmyeon, forget about his love for him. Those months made an obsessed child of him, made him cling on the remnants of Junmyeon like a madman, wrapping himself on his cocoon of pain and drowning on it; Junmyeon’s clothes, Junmyeon’s bed, Junmyeon’s cologne, Junmyeon’s favorite objects, all **his.** Jongdae will never understand what it feels to die each sunrise and sunset. He may love Junmyeon desperately, but he doesn’t _get_ him like Sehun does, for years acting cowardly from the shadows, waiting for the best moment to strike, competing with _Jongin_ of all people for attention, when the dancer represented a threat as much as a puppy did.

 

No, Sehun concludes, tightening his hold on Junmyeon’s waist and kissing the skin behind his ear, he won’t let anyone take what’s most precious to him.

 

 

.

 

 

Like everything that concerned Junmyeon, Park Chanyeol observes.

 

He’s there when Junmyeon remembers him, smiling through tears about the ‘silly, oversized puppy who is more than he looked like’; he’s there when he remembers each member, arms crossed as Junmyeon hugged each one of them, crying tears that made his face scrunch up in a ugly frown, for Chanyeol preferred his leader smiling. He observed his physiotherapy sessions, admired Junmyeon’s efforts to walk perfectly again so he could go back to dancing; picked him up on his therapy meetings and observed with slightly teary eyes as he trashed on the divan, the pain of his time locked somewhere still too fresh. Chanyeol saw him struggling with vocal lessons and the mandarin’s too, saw him stay awake all night memorizing lyrics and schedules, so he could go back to his role as EXO’s leader.

 

Chanyeol sees his relationships with the members: sees him cuddling with Minseok late at night on the couch, watching for the nth time a Star Wars or a new horror one, sees Minseok helping him out on sorting the schedules and calling managers and the take-out food when Kyungsoo can’t cook. He sees Kyungsoo spoiling him rotten, letting him eat anything he wants and doing some of his chores; sees Baekhyun going out of his way to make the leader happy, and he even obeys Junmyeon with more frequency. Chanyeol watches Jongin following him around and become more lively, the younger playing with Junmyeon’s clothes as they watch TV and taking naps on his lap, head buried on Junmyeon’s neck. It’s a surprise for him – for all of them – when Junmyeon and Yixing suddenly become so close, the Chinese boy talking with him and Junmyeon listening and opining eagerly; when their conversations were normally stiff and professional, now they are warm, filled with mutual affection and soft touching hands.

 

Chanyeol sees Jongdae throwing Junmyeon heated, longing glances. Sees him cornering the leader against the wall one day – when he thought no one was looking – and kissing him passionately, his hands holding Junmyeon’s head firmly on its place, unrelenting even when Junmyeon started to struggle; before Chanyeol could do anything, he sees Junmyeon shoving Jongdae way with panting breaths and swollen lips, eyes huge and confused. He sees Junmyeon brainstorming on his room later that day, and offers his insight – since he watches everything – on the situation. He watches as Junmyeon’s face contorts into a frown, his eyes reflecting the mess his head is in, just now recovering from almost a year of going missing and losing his memories, having to deal with the feelings of someone he loved, yes, but in what way?

 

Chanyeol also sees Junmyeon asking for Sehun’s opinion on the matter – he hadn’t meant to see; he was there to call them for dinner – and the maknae rage, his desperation when the information seems to sunk; all of it, from Sehun’s babbling to his swift pounce on Junmyeon, pinning him on the bed, the harsh declaration – _I’ve always loved you hyung! Even before our debut, and I’ll be damned if I let Jongdae steal you from me! –_ and the clumsy kiss that follows right after. Chanyeol watches the Junmyeon’s lack of reaction, and more hears than sees Sehun growling low on his throat, kissing harder until Junmyeon is kissing back, his hands pushing Sehun’s hair, hips rising to meet with the younger’s. He leaves before he can see more.

 

Later, he sees Junmyeon sniffing into Kyungsoo’s shirt, not knowing what to do.

 

Chanyeol forgets a bit about this matter – there are too many things happening: comebacks, filming, shooting, interviews, practice, composing – and time passes.

 

He only turns aware of it again when he sees Junmyeon sitting across Jongdae and Sehun, three gloom faces and serious words spewing from the older’s mouth. He sees Sehun sassing his way through the talk and Jongdae biting, dry humor, mocking the entire situation. Chanyeol sees Junmyeon snarling at them and leaving, bumping on his shoulder in the process; Jongdae and Sehun now fighting each other with identical expressions of guilt.

 

For once, he accompanies Junmyeon, staying by his side not only watching, but actively participating on the other’s life. He holds his hands and helps him with the choreography and the agenda for EXO. He laughs at his bad jokes and jokes himself, satisfied in seeing the Junmyeon cracking up, his cheeks – filling out slowly but steadily – flushed in mirth. They sleep on the same bed sometimes, because Junmyeon doesn’t want to face Sehun just yet, and with Chanyeol is the only place Jongdae doesn’t dare – Chanyeol may or may not have warned him – to approach. Everything is going well, and EX’ACT already broke records on its first week, one of his songs there to prove his worth.

 

Then Chanyeol sees Sehun and Jongdae cornering Junmyeon, both boys mumbling apologies, promising Junmyeon that they won’t ever be mean with each other again, and that if it’s for him, they’re willing to share. For a second Chanyeol thinks Junmyeon will smack them good in the face, and yell that he doesn’t belong to anyone – but EXO as a whole and EXO-L – to be shared like a piece of chocolate. This would be something old Junmyeon would say, but this Junmyeon still bears the scars of a kidnapping and the blankness of amnesia lurking on his shadows, so he simply sighs resignedly; he kisses Jongdae’s cheek and Sehun’s jaw, saying they’ll have to talk properly this time. Chanyeol sees the eager nods and snorts. Junmyeon always did have those two wrapped around his little finger.

 

He waits until he’s locked on his room to allow a lone tear to fall.

 

Well, he thinks he’ll have to watch Junmyeon forever, now that he lost his chance to become something in the life of EXO’s leader.

.

.

.

.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my darlings, that was it! Leader is officially over~
> 
> I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, kudos-ed and bookmarked. You have no idea how I become every time I read your opinions about what I write. It is a indescribable happiness ^^
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this three chaptered fanfic, and how I decided to finish it. I know is impossible to please everyone, so I'm sorry to those I'll disappoint. I know I left a lot of things in the air, but I couldn't think of a way to end it differently.
> 
> I just have one question, for those with patience to read through my way long author's note: I plan to write something for the moment I hit 500 subscribers in my account on AsianFanfics, and I would like to know if I should write a SuhoxSomeone fanfic. If yes, please, please tell me this 'someone'.
> 
> Thank you very much for everything, I love all of you. 
> 
> And remember: Love our leader and guardian Kim Suho Junmyeon a lot! 
> 
> (and support the goddamn comeback that had me climbing the walls *dab* *dab*)
> 
> (oh, any mistake is my own. Feel free to point them out to me)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's it... For the first part. Two more to go, yey~
> 
> Hope it wasn't massively boring; I wanted to establish some sort of routine for Junmyeon, so the chapter may have gotten annoying to read, and I'm sorry for that. I promise I'll try to do a better job in the next chapters...
> 
> So, anyone wanting a specific pairing? No? Yes? Tell me~
> 
> My mistakes are my own, please feel free to point them out to me~


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